


The Prince and The Rock

by link621



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/link621/pseuds/link621
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year, the Tezukas and the Sanadas go on a camping trip together - a tradition started by the long-time rivals Sanada Genemon and Tezuka Kunikazu. Sanada Genichirou is dreading the trip... and Tezuka Kunimitsu's sudden return from Germany isn't helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and The Rock

It was _tradition_.

That’s what his grandfather would say, arms folded sternly over his chest, his face clearly creased with disapproval. Secretly, Genichirou suspected his grandfather was equally disenchanted with this particular Sanada family tradition, but he did not dare mention that to his grandfather - particularly not in front of his nephew Sasuke who could smell weakness from miles away and would pounce on the first opportunity to get out of a boring family function.

“Ugh, Genichirou - what’s _in_ here, a ro- oh, you are not bringing that stupid rock.” His brother dropped Genichirou’s duffle on the ground behind his car, opening it up and digging through clothes, snacks, toiletries, and school books (he could not fall behind on school work just because they were leaving for a weekend) in search of the large, grey stone that had been passed down through their family for generations... in the current generation, it skipped the first son altogether. For obvious reasons, Genichirou thought. “Can’t you just have a stuffed animal like a normal kid?”

“I’m not a child,” Genichirou grumbled in return, reaching down to scoop up the bag out from under his brother’s prying hands. “Just leave it. I’ll be the one carrying it, anyway.” He pulled the zipper shut and tossed the bag in the back of his brother’s car without another word. He may have resigned himself to this fate, but that did not mean he had to be glad about it. He had been moping for the better part of the week, according to Renji, but Renji didn’t understand how truly miserable this trip was going to be.

 

Monday morning, over an otherwise uneventful breakfast, he was reminded of the annual trip. 

“But Tezuka...” He paused, remembering that “Tezuka” could mean one of several people in this particular instance. “Rather, _Kunimitsu_ is in Germany.” Surely they would not go on a “men’s outing to the mountains,” as his grandfather called it, without one of the men who had been with them since the first time they went on the trip. Sasuke was allowed to go with them for the first time this year, but he was hardly excited for it. He only agreed once he was assured he could bring his Nintendo something-or-another. 

“He’s back in town,” Genichirou’s father assured him distractedly, his eyes focused intently on the morning paper. His chopsticks missed the bowl and came back to his mouth empty, but he did not seem to notice, he was so engrossed in the story he was reading. It was a wonder he could keep up with the conversation around him. “That’s what Kunikazu told me.”

“You’re too familiar with that man,” Genichirou’s grandfather was saying at the same time that Genichirou raised the objection, “He’s coming into town just to go on a camping trip? He must have better things to do.”

Ignoring them both, Genichirou’s father took a sip from his empty cup of tea and continued to read.

 

“You look awful, Genichirou,” Seiichi commented during afternoon practice, always knowing exactly what to say. He was immune (or oblivious) to the glance of annoyance Genichirou shot him in response. It was more than a boring camping trip that was eating away at Genichirou, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, exactly. Naturally, the harder he tried to pin-point the cause, the more it frustrated him and the worse he felt.

“Seiichi,” Renji chided softly. Evidently, he had decided that he did not need to practice today and took up a spot beside Seiichi, looming. “I take it your trip to the mountains is coming up soon? Camping is not the curse you make it out to be.”

No, it wasn’t camping that was the problem. It wasn’t even the trip, it was...

“Yukimura,” a strangely familiar voice spoke from behind them, prompting all three boys to turn. A taller boy - slightly taller than Genichirou, still shy of Renji’s height, stood behind them wearing a soft purple tennis polo with a darker purple stripe over the shoulders that followed the seams; the Prince logo was conspicuously stitched over the left breast. 

“Tezuka,” Rikkai’s captain acknowledged before Genichirou was finished admiring the curve of Tezuka’s collarbone just barely visible through the collar of the polo. He had grown - filled out - since he was last in Japan. He was taller, stronger...

“Tezuka,” Genichirou echoed, some unnamed feeling burning in his stomach... a nervous, jittery, fiery feeling like... like heartburn. A scowl met his lips at the sight of his rival and companion on the upcoming camping trip. “You’re back in town.”

“He knows,” Renji assured their vice captain, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. The unpleasant seemed to move up Genichirou’s body at the teasing remark, burning in his chest and throat. 

With diplomatic subtlety to shame even Genichirou, Seiichi asked, “Why are you here?” His soft voice and even tone were at odds with the demand. 

“For Sanada,” replied Tezuka. He shifted his tennis bag on his back with a roll of his shoulders. Before Genichirou could protest, the other boy continued, “For a match. It has been too long.” 

“Yes,” Genichirou was agreeing before either of his friends could say anything. The opportunity to play Tezuka after he had been training with the pros was one he would have to be out of his mind to pass up. “Yes, let’s.”

He did not question it further, he just went for his racquet. He could sense Renji’s eyes on his back, but he ignored him... and the feeling settling back in his stomach.

 

Tuesday morning practice was alight with whispers.

_Sanada-fukubuchou lost to Tezuka-san,_ he heard Akaya mutter to Marui in the locker room.

_What’s up with Sanada, losing like that?_ That was Marui to Jackal.

_Do you have any overgrip? I think I need to build this up._

_Of course, Kuwahara-kun._

_Where’s your doubles partner?_

_Skipping again, it would seem._ Yagyuu adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with one finger; he and Jackal were the only two who were not gossiping about the match from the day before.

“Laps. Hundreds of them,” Seiichi was telling Renji lightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“You terrify me,” Renji replied, though his tone did not imply he was terrified or even particularly bothered. He zipped his warm-up jacket up to his chin and tucked the head of his racquet under his arm.

Ignoring it all, Genichirou stomped out of the locker room into the morning air - it was a crisp, clear morning; there were not many of them left in the spring before weather would give way to the summer heat. It would be cold up in the mountains where they were to be camping; the mornings would be particularly unpleasant. He fondly recalled one year when the rainy season came early and they had to throw tarps over the tents to keep the walls of the tents from leaking moisture inside. They sat under a makeshift shelter and listened to the rain while they sipped tea to keep warm. Tezuka’s glasses fogged from the steam of the tea and his nose scrunched up with distaste. 

Faintly, Genichirou smiled, remembering a much smaller, skinnier boy with a mess of brown hair who never smiled and perpetually wore a bewildered expression. Sometimes he wondered what was happening at the Tezuka household that their only son could seem so perplexed by the world. 

There was that heartburn again. Genichirou tried to recall what he had for dinner the night before and why it would be bothering him again today.

“Sanada.”

That voice.

He turned, surprised to see Tezuka was standing beside him wearing a different, equally lavender tennis polo. The Prince logo was printed up the sleeve - it looked more like an advertisement than a logo. If he was at all feeling sore from their tiring match the day before, it did not show in his stance. 

“Come to challenge me again?” Genichirou asked, wondering if he could get warmed up in time to play a match during practice, win, and still make it to first period before the bell.

“No, just to observe.” Tezuka folded his arms over his chest - when he did it, he looked stern, but not uncomfortable. Renji had commented before that with all of the muscle Genichirou carried in his upper body, he looked like a bouncer at a gay night club. Why it was specifically a _gay_ nightclub Renji had refused to specify and had brushed Genichirou off with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“Oh,” Genichirou mimicked Tezuka’s stance, trying to adjust his arms in such a way that did not give off the gay-nightclub-bouncer vibe too strongly. “Perhaps this afternoon?”

“Perhaps,” Tezuka agreed.

 

The next few days proceeded identically. Tezuka came to observe morning practice in one of his impressively massive collection of lavender tennis polos and then was around for a friendly match in the afternoon. By Friday, Genichirou’s body ached in complaint from so many straight days of playing tennis at his fullest effort and he was nursing multiple strains. He still did not have a win to his credit, either - how Tezuka could have improved so greatly in such a short period of time boggled his mind. It was a great relief to not see Tezuka’s face at afternoon practice on Friday.

So why did he feel so disappointed?

“Ten laps for every practice you missed,” Seiichi explained with a cheerful smile. 

Niou had resigned himself to his fate before he even spoke with their captain, so he did not try to wiggle his way out of his punishment. When it came down to it, he was one of the most hard working members of the club, always pushing himself to his limits... even if his frequent absences were an annoyance. “That’s up to nine, now.”

“Do an extra ten to make it an even hundred, then. Ought to keep you out of trouble for a while.” 

“Terrifying,” Renji muttered jokingly to Seiichi once Niou left. “Completely terrifying.”

After that, practice passed uneventfully - what normally felt like organized chaos on the best of the days was almost... boring without a match to look forward to. As much as his body thanked him for it, the distraction from the week had managed to keep his mind off of the camping trip that was looming ominously in his future. Maybe he and Tezuka would even have something to talk about after all this time.

Genichirou felt like he was going through the motions locking up when they were done and getting his bag together. When he heard a voice call his name from the door of the clubhouse, his heart attempted to escape through his mouth, getting stuck somewhere in his throat and forming a heavy lump there as he turned around to face his curiously absent friend. “Tezuka,” he acknowledged.

“I’ll walk you home,” the other boy offered. Genichirou could only nod in agreement, fighting with the tightness in his throat, and followed Tezuka out into the afternoon sunshine.

They walked in silence part of the way, allowing Genichirou time to collect his thoughts. “This camping trip,” he finally ventured. He left the thought at that, though it was meant to be a question. Was Tezuka excited? What would he bring? Did he really come back just for the camping trip?

“Yes,” Tezuka said in agreement, or possibly to answer one of the many questions Genichirou had implied. It may have even been a question in return. They had never been very good at communicating with one another.

Again, the feeling bubbling inside him - it felt very much like shame; the burning of his cheeks, the uncomfortable way it crawled under his skin raising gooseflesh on his arms if he focused too intently on the feeling, the way he found himself avoiding Tezuka’s eyes like they would see something inside of him that was not meant to be seen. The longer they remained in silence, the more it seemed to build up in him, swelling uncomfortably like some sort of festering infection. He was going to be ill.

“I look forward to it.” Genichirou’s head snapped up to look at Tezuka - those were words he had not expected. “It has been too long, old friend.”

The rivalry that had existed between Sanada Genemon and Tezuka Kunikazu dated back to a time when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth - it could be mentioned casually in the same sentence as the rivalry between dog and monkey, it was so well and widely known. But Sanada Genichirou and Tezuka Kunimitsu were, below many years of frustration and rivalry, friends, just like their grandfathers. Still, it would never have been Genichirou to first speak of it - he found it warmed his heart to hear the words.

Genichirou relaxed, releasing a breath he had not known he was holding and offering an easy smile commonly reserved for Renji or Seiichi. “It has been,” he agreed.

“There is... something I wish to tell you,” Tezuka continued cryptically. For a moment, his expression became troubled; an echo of a time when he often looked perplexed as a child. As soon as he had said the words, he seemed to wish to retract them, adding, “But this is not the time. On our trip, perhaps?”

“Uh...” Something about the thought of waiting for the trip to hear the words Tezuka wished to speak to him made Genichirou’s stomach feel upset and slippery like a fish was swimming circles within. He nodded automatically, not really sure what he was agreeing to do.

“This is where I pick up the bus.” Tezuka motioned to the stop ahead of them. Genichirou thought it ran north-south, but perhaps it encountered the train station that was best for the trip back to Tokyo from Kanagawa along the route. “I will look forward to tomorrow.”

Genichirou had been dreading the trip and the secret Tezuka was holding from him did little to help matters. “So... am I,” he agreed cautiously and wondered over his long-time rival’s words all the way home.

 

“What does it mean... when someone tells you that they have something they wish to tell you but don’t tell you right away?” Genichirou was seated in the front seat of his brother’s car - the back seat was occupied with a camping stove, his brother’s girlfriend, and Genichirou’s nephew who was whining to his mom about all the reasons why they shouldn’t go on the trip. Included were bees, rain, fresh air, dirt, bears, and sasquatch. 

“Sounds like she likes you,” his brother responded in a sing-song voice, glancing away from the road for a moment to smile mischievously. “Is she cute?” Though he focused back on the road, Genichirou knew there was now no deterring his brother from this particular topic.

“S...she?” It wasn’t a “she” and “she” didn’t “like” Genichirou. 

“It’s okay, it’s about time you got a girlfriend,” his brother reasoned.

“Don’t get her knocked up while you’re still in high school,” his brother’s girlfriend put in from the backseat. She always was the champion of ending awkward conversations by turning the tables back on Genichirou’s older brother. “Use protection.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Sasuke complained with a groan. “I shouldn’t have to hear about this stuff.”

“If you’re old enough to understand what ‘this stuff’ is, you’re old enough to hear about it,” she replied, unphased by his complaint. Genichirou thought that if he did have a girlfriend, he would like it to be someone like her - mature, grounded, and no-nonsense. Like a pillar of...

The fish in Genichirou’s stomach swam around anxiously and he sank as far into the passenger’s seat as his seatbelt would allow. Everyone else was distracted already, anyway... maybe he could disappear. Tezuka wouldn’t be holding in a love confession from Genichirou, because he didn’t like Genichirou that way, right? Genichirou certainly didn’t think of Tezuka like that. Right?

 

And so it was with a heart full of dread and a bag full of rock that Genichirou trudged his way to the campsite alongside his family. He was beginning to see the wisdom in his brother’s suggestion that he should leave the rock at home around the forty-minute mark in their hike to the campsite, but he could hear Renji in the back of his head insinuating that carrying around a rock was somehow part of his training for tennis. Well, he had been carrying around what felt like a rock in his stomach all week and he had not improved enough to overcome Tezuka, so Genichirou suspected Renji might be full of shit.

It was no surprise that the Tezukas were already there when they arrived. It was a game - last year the Sanadas arrived first, and they would likely be the first there the following year. It was all part of the dog-and-monkey relationship between Genichirou’s grandfather and Tezuka Kunikazu, who were already touting past victories in arriving to the campsite first in an effort to outdo one-another. Genichirou let his bag drop to the ground with a heavy thud, briefly considering that his school books were in there and might get creased or dented (and the pain it would cause Yagyuu if he knew), before cautiously approaching Tezuka. Maybe he could get this over with quickly.

“Sanada,” the other boy acknowledged him, looking relaxed and at home in the forest of the mountain. He looked just as comfortable in a long-sleeve t-shirt, jeans, and a hunting vest as he did wearing his tennis clothing. If anything his appearance was even more striking than since Genichirou last saw him - the angles of his face and mess of hair making for a stark contrast to his soft brown eyes. Genichirou simply had not noticed such things when he was so focused on tennis.

“Tezuka,” he replied finally. He felt foolish being so tense in what was meant to be a relaxing atmosphere, particularly with the other boy gazing at him so calmly. Whatever it was Tezuka had to say to him... it could wait. They should enjoy themselves first. Genichirou smiled for what felt like the first time in a week, narrowing his eyes in challenge. “Shall we see who can pitch a tent the fastest?”

An echo of the spirit of competition appeared in Tezuka’s eyes for a brief moment. “We are sharing a tent... since Sasuke-kun is here this year.” Oh, right. Sasuke would be sharing with his parents. Never mind that this was supposed to be a _no girls allowed_ trip. “But we should get started.”

“Let’s not get careless,” Sanada agreed ironically, settling into an old, childish habit of taunting his rival.

“Or slack off,” Tezuka replied, doing an unfortunately accurate impression of Genichirou’s tone.

Nervousness was all but forgotten.

 

The day was overall rather uneventful. Kunikazu and Genemon started their 199th game of Go, each with 99 wins to their credit, but like all other attempts to play the game, they seemed to find reasons why they could not finish. Neither of them genuinely wished to be the first to reach 100 wins - not if it meant their game would end. Genichirou’s brother took his girlfriend and Sasuke on a “wilderness walk,” which Sasuke astutely pointed out was just a way of trying to make hiking sound more exciting. Genichirou’s parents sat down with Tezuka’s parents, made tea over a camping stove, and just enjoyed the fresh air.

“Shall we explore?” Those were the last words spoken between Tezuka and Genichirou that started them off on their walk through the woods, though they kept careful track of where they were relative to the campsite, lest they get lost.

Silence passed comfortably between them; Tezuka had never been one to waste words on idle chatter and Genichirou was more the type to react than to provoke. They only shared brief words to mention that an area of ground was uneven or to give instructions in helping each other climb up a rock or across a slippery mountain stream. Genichirou was conscious of how strong and steady Tezuka was - not just in his personality, but in the way his hands with such long fingers would wrap certainly around Genichirou’s to give him a hand up and how he never seemed to lose his balance even on uncertain footing.

Rikkai would have been very different under a captain like Tezuka, Genichirou thought absently. Seiichi was consistent, but he was not stable. He was no one’s rock, pillar of support, or steady hand. He might have a record on the court to back up the claims that he was the “child of god,” but certainly not from any religious doctrine that claimed the child of god was a martyr or the savior of man. More like Hercules. Or, what Genichirou knew of Hercules from watching the Disney movie with Sasuke. Renji had assured him that Disney movies were not the best way to learn one’s literature or mythology.

Tezuka was Genichirou’s ideal woman, really. Well, man. No blushing or weird feelings attached to that thought as he sat down beside Tezuka on the large rock that overlooked their campsite. Just a sense that this was how it was supposed to be - like putting on a new pair of tennis shoes to have them feel right the first time he stepped on the court. Not Prince or New Balance shoes that ran far too wide, but something slimmer that hugged to his foot comfortably... Mizuno.

That cheesy thought did bring heat to his cheeks, but for the foolishness of it all.

“Tezuka,” Genichirou began, straightening his shoulders. “This past week... I have not been at my best. I will continue to aim to defeat you so I may be a worthy rival when next we meet.”

“...Hm?” Tezuka turned to look at him, a blank expression on his face. As usual, it seemed Genichirou’s words were soaring over his head. “This past week...?”

“You have become strong, but I will always find a way to defeat you.” 

The lights were on, but nobody was home in Tezuka’s head. “Sanada, what are you...?”

“We’ll have a rematch after we return from the trip. I’ll show you my true strength!” Genichirou’s voice had risen to a shout before he knew it.

“You’re too noisy up there - chill out, old man!” Sasuke yelled at him from the campsite, waving an arm up at them. After a pause, he added, “Oh, and Mom says you guys have to come back for dinner!”

Tezuka stood, offering Genichirou a hand up - he still had not offered any sort of response, but he was keen on being silent all the way back to the campsite. Where he felt impassioned a moment before, Genichirou now had something poisonous stinging in his throat. He was not done with this discussion; Tezuka owed him a confession of his own, he had promised it before they left. 

 

From a slow simmer to an angry boil, Genichirou’s temper was at its fullest when they were getting into their sleeping bags. There was a small rock under his - probably no larger than a marble, but it just added to his agitation. He grouchily watched Tezuka remove his glasses, angrily admitted to himself that the other boy was stunning when his face was unobscured, and grumbled to himself that Tezuka was content to just go to sleep like there was nothing on his mind. 

“So, what was it?” Genichirou demanded hotly, sitting up in his sleeping bag.

“‘It?’” Tezuka glanced in his general direction blindly.

“What did you have to say to me?” 

Silence filled the air between them for several heartbeats before Tezuka also sat up, putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he responded, the blankness returning to his eyes. Either he was a master of deception, or he genuinely did not know what Genichirou was talking about - the former, obviously, was the truth of the matter.

“Just say it!” Genichirou’s hands balled up in his sleeping bag. “You were going to say it the other day, then you didn’t.” He plowed through Tezuka’s immediate protest. “My brother already told me what it is - you have feelings for me and just didn’t know how to admit it. Well, you can just say it, now, because I... _like_ you, too. So just say what you’re thinking, already!” Genichirou was awkwardly tripping over words and the level of his voice was rising, but with each word that fell from his mouth he felt a bit of relief. 

Confusion gave way to shock and Tezuka almost stuttered through his words in the closest thing to a lack of composure Genichirou had ever seen from him. “You... for me...?”

“Yes. Do you even get how good looking you are? And stable?” 

“Stable?”

“It’s a compliment,” Genichirou assured him.

“ _Genichirou_ ,” came his brother’s voice from somewhere outside the tent. “You are in a tent - everyone can hear you. We’re all happy for you having a sexual awakening, but will you please shut up and go to sleep?”

Mortified, Genichirou tried to disappear back into the sleeping bag, though the rock digging into his ribs was a constant reminder that reality still existed outside of his little bag of safety and he would have to return to it come morning.

Ages passed as he did not sleep. Centuries. Millenia. He had just managed to convince himself that he might be a time-traveler and he could go back in time to take everything back or go so far forward in time that everyone involved would forget all about it when he felt a hand rest on the outside of the sleeping bag, peeling it away from his face. 

“Sanada,” Tezuka ventured softly. Genichirou was afraid to look at the other boy, scared of what he might see there. If it was anger or disgust, it would only make Genichirou feel worse. If it was tenderness or understanding, he would have to face reality all the sooner. “Genichirou,” he amended. “I think they are asleep.” The words forced Genichirou to open his eyes, gazing up at his long-time rival and friend, finding only softness in his eyes.

“About before...”

“Yes,” Tezuka interrupted him, touching his fingertips delicately to Genichirou’s bangs. “I have those feelings, too. I have been called stable before. No, I was not aware you found me attractive.” Before Genichirou could say anything, he continued, “Yes, I will play a match with you. I’d like to see you continue to push yourself and improve. I must still leave, however, so I don’t know where that leaves you and I, if your feelings are as you said.”

“...High phone bills?”

The corner of Tezuka’s lips rose into the smallest of fond smiles, warming Genichirou from the core. He found himself smiling in return, almost against his will. “Long trips to the airport to say goodbye,” he added.

It was awkward and new - not nearly as smooth as it always looked in the movies - but somehow their lips found one another without too much nose-bumping. As their lips touched, Genichirou quickly figured out that opening his mouth and diving right in didn’t work, tongues weren’t scary, and that different movements of his lips and tongue stirred up feelings and sounds from both of them that were probably not meant to be overheard by others. He was certain he would miss this when Tezuka was away... but for now, it seemed worth the wait.

 

Tezuka was in line to go through customs with Genichirou at his side. He was wearing his tennis clothes for the plane - another in a long line of lavender polos, this one with the word “Mizuno” stitched over the left breast. It was a pain to travel with tennis gear - racquets were particularly nasty through customs - so Genichirou was glad it was Tezuka and not him dealing with the headache, even if he would be happier if the other boy was not leaving so soon. 

“We’ll have that rematch when you return,” Genichirou suggested, finding his eyes wandering to what showed of Tezuka’s collarbone where it peeked out under the lapel of his polo. It was no time to have such thoughts - though he touched two fingers to Tezuka’s elbow just to let him know that he was thinking of him fondly in that moment.

“Very well.” They shuffled forward a few steps. “Something has been bothering me, though,” Tezuka looked at him earnestly. “Was our last match not at Nationals in our third year of junior high?”

“...Last week...” Genichirou began to argue, but that was when it clicked. The absences. The off behavior. The Prince logo where the Mizuno logo should have been. “ _Niou_ ,” he grumbled to himself.

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” Genichirou muttered, tugging at his cap to hide his eyes briefly. “Have a safe flight.”

“I’ll call when I land,” Tezuka promised.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Genichirou replied slowly. He would.

 

“One hundred laps,” Sanada barked at Niou the moment he spotted him at morning practice on Monday.

“I’m not done with the hundred Yukimura assigned me, though...” Niou whined, stretching out his arms like he had no intention of running any laps at all.

“Get. Running.” 

That was enough to spur Niou into action - normally that tone was followed by unpleasant consequences.

“I see you figured things out,” Renji commented from somewhere behind Genichirou - he was looming, as usual. Genichirou knew that he was being vague on purpose... he might have meant Niou’s deception, he could have meant the situation with Tezuka. 

“You should be running, too.”

“Terrifying,” said Renji insincerely with a soft chuckle.


End file.
